This morning as I was getting ready for church I thought of something that has occasionally crossed my in the last ten years. It was about how I shave. Years ago when I was about the same age as Kanga is now I was playing in the space under the stairs. There was a odd collection of stuff that my parents had stored there. Some of it I had no interest in but this day I came across my great grandfather's straight edge razor. Well, I came across one of them (I found out later he had two). I was fascinated with it. I remember opening it up and looking at it and then not cutting myself. Ironically, despite my fascination with this old, archaic, wicked-looking implement of facial deforestation I only ever cut my finger on one of my own father's "safety razors." I remember dad being a little upset with me for disturbing the storage area and exposing myself to a horrible cut (if I hadn't been careful). He told me to stay out of there and moved the threat somewhere else. I didn't see them again for twenty years. But I never forgot that razor.
Years past and as I got facial hair (not that it was worth mentioning) I got an electric razor to help me "manage it." My mother, despite my best efforts, felt that I should make sure to shave regularly. I can't say I ever felt like there was much point to it. My facial hair has always been very light and didn't grow very thick. I often questioned if anybody could even see it. I always did shave before a date though, and tried to be mindful enough to make sure it had a semi-regular trimming.It wasn't until I was in college and living on my own that I realized that I could shave when and, more importantly, how I wanted to. It was then that I located a beauty shop supply store and bought a straight edge razor. Actually is was a hair thinner with disposable blades but if you took the little comb off you ended up with a suitable substitute. That was the start of what became my preferred shaving method. The disposable was merciless. I remember almost take a button sized chunk of my lip off once. I'm surprised it didn't scare, but the cut was really clean. Sometime in the ensuing months my dad, with help of our barber, had tracked down a knife and scissor store and gave me a really, actual straight edge razor and strop. I found a sharpening stone on eBay, my only eBay purchase, and felt equipped to never by another razor again.
I've used that razor ever since. Several years ago my father relocated my great grandfather's razors and his finishing stone. He offered me one razor and the stone, giving the other razor to my brother. I've also received a shaving brush as a gift for my birthday. So now I am fully equipped with a full shaving kit of a 19th gentleman. I've had my share of cuts and slices. But while few men actually ever enjoy shaving, I do find the method preferable to others. For one, I don't have to buy razor blades and if it's feeling dull I just sharpen it. Second, my hair can never "gum up" my razor. Third, the blade is quite wide so I can clean large patches of my face very easily. Also, it doesn't pinch or pull the hairs like some other razors I've used. And lastly, I just like the feel of it. It's a great way to wake up and requires me to take deliberate thought and planning into shaving.
One other cool thing about straight edge razors - They become heirlooms. My father has had a handful of electric and safety razors. However, electronics fail and razor blades are disposable and are constantly updated to new styles with more blades. Whereas my great grandfather's razors still hold an edge and can still shave my face as well as they did his. I found the date Aug 27, 1918 on the cardboard case that his razor came in. Whether that is the date the razor was made or just the company was started, that razor has history. My razor is of more recent make, but it looks a lot like my great grandfathers. Perhaps my son, or grandson, or even great grandson will inherit my shaving kid and while the rest of the men are replacing batteries is laser blade razors he'll be sharpening his father/grandfather/great grandfather's razor for a deliberate and not unpleasant daily ritual.
My razor is the white handled one while great grandfather's is the black handled one.
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